


Glowing

by sunsetmog



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-26
Updated: 2005-07-26
Packaged: 2017-10-31 01:25:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/338371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetmog/pseuds/sunsetmog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dom had never meant to get pregnant. It had been an accident, a mistake, a mistimed error on his part. He should have known better, should have added up the dates and checked his calendar and been more damned careful with the condoms. But sometimes it was a bit hard to just turn round to your bloke and say <i>hang on, yeah, this time we definitely need a condom cos otherwise there's the possibility you might just get me up the duff.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Glowing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [abbichicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbichicken/gifts).



> Originally posted [here](http://sunsetmog-fics.livejournal.com/21305.html) in July 2005.
> 
> Original notes: Written as part of abbichicken's birthday present, this is sheer crack!fic. Warnings for male pregnancy, crying, angst, unrequited love and the existence of a substrata of society known (unfortunately) as 'Fertile Males'.

**(i) Dom**  
Dom had never meant to get pregnant. It had been an accident, a mistake, a mistimed error on his part. He should have known better, should have added up the dates and checked his calendar and been more damned careful with the condoms. But sometimes it was a bit hard to just turn round to your bloke and say _hang on, yeah, this time we definitely need a condom cos otherwise there's the possibility you might just get me up the duff._

Dom always dreaded that part of his relationships. The _conversation_. It could go either way, see. 

Sometimes it turned out ok, and his boyfriends managed to contain their incredulity and stop themselves from turning around and walking away from him. Once or twice it had gone horribly, terribly wrong though; one time he'd been spat at, and another boyfriend had just walked away and never looked back. Dom had hoped that Billy would take the news better, that he would nod and smile and tell Dom it didn't matter that they had to be extra careful so as not to make any accidental babies. 

It wasn't as if Dom hadn't been building up to it. He'd left copies of the _New Scientist_ open at the articles pertaining to the recent rise in male pregnancies. They'd accidentally crashed the Wellington lecture halls just in time to hear the leading obstetricians and geneticists speak about increased fertility in men. He'd 'forgotten' how to set Billy's video and instead of taping the football had taped the new reality TV show _Men and Motherhood_. All gentle hints, if you like, but Dom hadn't quite managed to get as far as actually sitting down with Billy and saying _you know, Billy, we've not been going out very long but I just have to tell you that I might well be able to get pregnant._

And now it was too late, and Dom had to sit down with Billy, pat him on the knee and tell him that they were going to have a baby. He shook his head. This was all too damn surreal, even for him. 

It was all the fault of the vodka, that was the problem. A few too many vodka cocktails and Dom was on his back with his legs wrapped around Billy's waist without even a thought to birth control. It wasn't like girls, see, it wasn't as if he could just go to the doctors and demand to go on the pill. Male pregnancies had only just been taken out of the DSM and ICD; fifteen years ago you would have been banged up in a mental institution and seen out the remainder of the pregnancy (and the subsequent year or two, most probably) knitting bonnets and bootees in an enclosed order somewhere in the middle of the countryside, your baby adopted by more suitable parents moments after birth. Research had only recently started to look into the possibility of regulating drugs for male fertility hormones and Dom was buggered if he was going to be the guinea pig for fertile males everywhere. So yeah, Dom was well and truly fucked. He was pregnant, after a drunken night of sex and debauchery with his best friend and sometime boyfriend. And now he was stuck being the father (mother? The acceptance of male pregnancies in society wasn't yet at the level where the terminology was quite settled, and terms fluctuated with the wind) of a baby that would forever be the result of too much vodka. 

Taking a deep breath, Dom picked up the phone and dialled Billy's number. 

**(ii) Billy**  
Billy arrived two hours later, bearing a bottle of Australian red wine, a pizza with way too many anchovies and a copy of _The Faculty_. "Thought we could get drunk, eat too much and then get down to it with Elijah on in the background," he grinned, pressing a quick kiss to Dom's open mouth. 

Dom shook his head, following Billy into his kitchen, watching as he began rooting around in the drawers, looking for a bottle opener and packets of Doritos. "We've got to talk," Dom told Billy, taking the bottle and holding it behind his back. " _Before_ we open this."

Billy raised an eyebrow. "This isn't the 'I _want to break_ up' conversation, is it?" he asked, "because if it is, can I have my bottle of wine back? I'll need something to drown my sorrows before I go and throw myself in the lake, if it is."

Dom shrugged. "I don't want us to break up," he told Billy, putting the bottle of wine down on the counter. "Look, Bills, will you sit down?" He eyed Billy warily for a moment. "You're not serious about the throwing yourself in the lake thing, are you?"

"Depends on what it is you're looking so damn serious about," Billy said, pulling out a kitchen chair. He looked worried, and Dom swallowed tightly. 

"Look," Dom started, pulling out a chair and sitting down opposite Billy. Unconsciously, his hand went to his belly, pressing against the soft curve of his womb. A _baby_. His baby. Their baby. "There's something I have to tell you."

Billy stiffened in his seat. "Go on," he said. 

"It's about me," Dom started, "about me and-" he stopped, unsure of how to put it, "-me and my reproductive system."

Billy raised both eyebrows. "What the _fuck_?"

_Not like that, then_. "I'm not like other guys," Dom said finally, watching Billy from across the table. 

"No, you're gay, we've established that." Billy began to pick at the cardboard corner of the pizza box. 

"I'm not just gay, I'm-"

"Bisexual? A pain in the arse?"

"I'm a Fertile Male." Dom finished lamely, unsure of the terminology. "I've got a womb." 

Billy blinked. And then again. "You've got a _womb_?"

"Yes-" _and there's a baby in it_. "Are you ok with that?"

"Um..." Billy appeared to be searching for words, but he failed miserably, doing his best impression of a fish. 

Dom took advantage of the sudden silence. "So, yeah, there's one other thing."

"Don't tell me," Billy laughed, pinching his nose, "You're pregnant."

Dom swallowed. "Got it in one." 

Billy let out a deep breath. "You are kidding me, right?"

"Nope." 

Billy closed his eyes. His fingers picked relentlessly at the pizza box. "I thought I knew you," he said quietly, "I thought you wouldn't fuck me around." 

Dom sighed. "I know it's a shock, finding out that I'm fertile, but I thought that you would be a little more understanding." 

There was a long pause, the room silent apart from the rhythmic tear of cardboard as Billy shredded the pizza box. " _A little more understanding_?" Billy's face contorted, and he ripped the corner off the pizza box in frustration. "You _lie_ to me when I ask you if you've got anything you think I should know before we sleep together, you tell me there's nothing to worry about, that you've been checked out, so _I'm not always careful_ , and you don't ever think to tell me to use a condom when we're about to have sex _in case you get pregnant_ , it's always up to me to remember. And clearly I don't always. Fuck, you're so irresponsible, Dom." 

Dom shook his head. "I thought I had it under control; I thought it would never be an issue. I'm sorry. I never meant-"

"Shut up, Dom." Billy closed his eyes, "Right now I don't want to hear your excuses, I just want to get out of here. You are _such_ a shit. I don't want to be a father, I don't want it right now. And I thought I had nothing to worry about with you, but all along you were just messing me around." Billy stood up, pushing the pizza box out of the way. "I'm going," he said, "I need some time to think." He tried to make his way across the kitchen, but Dom's hand stilled him, tight around his wrist. "Fuck you, Dom." He shook his head, attempting to dislodge Dom finger by finger. Pulling away, he reached for the kitchen door, "And why the hell weren't you using birth control?" 

"They've not done enough research with the hormones," Dom told him hesitantly, trying to control his emotions. He didn't know why, but ever since he'd started to worry about the possibility of being pregnant, he hadn't been able to control his tears. "I'm not being some lab rat who ends up putting their babies in danger. Don't you remember the sixties? Babies without arms?" 

"So you just thought you'd risk _me_ instead," Billy spat. "Fuck this, I'm going to see Elijah. At least he won't tell me he's _pregnant_." 

"Are you leaving me?" Dom asked him. He sniffled, feeling the tell tale build up of tears. He hated this. He'd never asked to be a Fertile Male, never asked to spend the majority of his teen years being the subject of a million Psychology and Psychiatry PhD theses. A single tear escaped, slip-sliding its way down Dom's cheek. He wiped it away with one shaking hand. 

Billy shook his head, his lip curling. "And out come the waterworks," he said finally, "I'd never have expected it of you." 

"Billy," Dom said, and his voice cracked. His eyes shone. "Please, I'm begging you. Stay here so we can sort this out." 

Billy swallowed. "Right now, Dom, I can't be near you. I might well be in love with you, but I sure as hell don't like you very much right now." 

Dom sniffled, and he couldn't stop himself, the tears sliding down his cheeks. "It's a baby, Billy, an innocent baby. _Our_ baby." His hand caught Billy's, hot and sweaty against Billy's cool palm. 

"I didn't ask for this," Billy said softly, and his voice shook. "You didn't play fair, Dom." 

"This isn't a game," Dom cried, "This is our baby." 

Billy shook his head and pulled away from Dom's vice-like grip. "I can't do this right now." 

Dom watched in desolate silence, the tears rolling down his cheeks as Billy walked out of the door without looking back. 

**(iii) Elijah**  
"Dom's _what_?" Elijah asked, his eyes wide. 

"Pregnant," Billy said heavily. He'd turned up at Elijah's fifteen minutes earlier, fists clenched and face taut with pent-up emotion. He'd set about repeating every swear word he'd ever heard, until Elijah had taken him by both wrists and pushed him into the lounge, telling him to shut the fuck up else he'd ring Astin. Billy had promptly closed his mouth and promised not to say anything else. 

Elijah blinked and narrowed his eyes. "Who's he got pregnant?" He asked, his voice shaking, "I thought you two were pretty much exclusive." 

"He's not got someone else pregnant," Billy sighed, "He's one of those fucked-up fertile males. He's got a fucking _womb_."

Elijah blanched. "He's got a what?" 

"Womb." Billy shook his head and reached for his beer. "He's going to have a baby and I'm the father." 

Elijah swallowed hard. "I'll get you another drink," He said finally, shaking his head as he went into the kitchen. From the sounds coming from the kitchen, Billy was fairly sure Elijah was knocking back his own fair share of alcohol before mixing Billy a tall one. 

There was the clink of bottles as Elijah stopped drinking and set about making Billy a drink. This was such a fucking mess. Billy had never even considered children, not in a 'here right now' manner at least. Children were somewhere in the future, hazy and golden haired and sunny. Not right now, with a snub nose and long fingers and an accent that flickered from something close to Mancunian and deep and dark with Billy's Glaswegian brogue. Billy's hands shook. 

"Why the fuck didn't he tell me?" Billy called, eventually. Elijah was still buried deep in the alcohol in the kitchen. "Why did he let it get this far? How could the twat _not_ think it was important to tell me to use birth control when we were fucking?"

There was a strangled squeak from the kitchen. 

"Elijah?"

"I'm fine," Elijah said, but his voice was sing-song and strange. 

"Lij?" Billy narrowed his eyes. "Are you alright?" 

"Fine," Elijah said, tightly. He appeared at the kitchen door with a bottle of whisky, two thirds empty. His eyes glittered. "Drink?" 

Billy nodded. He watched Elijah from under hooded eyes. "Are you _sure_?" he asked, haltingly. 

Elijah nodded. "Yeah. Fine. Just shocked, that's all." He shook his head, his eyes shining, and knocked back a good shot of whisky straight from the bottle. 

"Elijah." Billy said finally. "I don't believe you." 

"It's _nothing_ ," Elijah said, and he took another gulp of whisky. Billy eyed the bottle; two thirds down, and he was sure that had been the new bottle at the front of Elijah's alcohol cupboard. 

Elijah might be a talented actor on the screen, but he was fucking shite at keeping his emotions in check. 

Things suddenly began to slot into space for Billy. Elijah's puppy-dog adoration of Dom, his heavy drinking over the past few weeks and months as Billy and Dom's relationship got a little more serious with every passing weekend. "Are you in love with him?" Billy asked, finally. He studied his fingers, noting the ink stains on his knuckles. 

"Don't be fucking stupid," Elijah spat. He took another long gulp of whisky, and his shoulders twisted with the shock. 

"Do you love him?" Billy asked again. His throat was dry and his fingers picked uselessly at the thread of his jeans. 

"Of course not," Elijah told him, but his voice was high pitched and terrible. 

"You do," Billy said, finally. "Why didn't you say anything?" He turned to face Elijah, who was frozen in the doorway. 

Elijah shrugged and hastily rubbed his eye with a clenched fist. "What could I have said?" he said eventually, "What words could I have used?" his eyes were wide and blue and full of tears, and Billy fought the desire to punch him. 

"I don't know." Billy ground out. "But you could have said something." 

"Like what?" Elijah shook his head, and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. His voice was hard. "He made his choice, and it wasn't me, and now you don't want him, and right now I want to hurt you because of that." 

Billy froze. "He lied to me," he said, icily. 

"He loved you, he _picked_ you, and you're throwing him away," Elijah said again. He sounded desperate, and Billy could hear the sobs in his voice. 

Billy fought the desire to smack him around the face. Elijah didn't get it, _at all_. "He didn't warn me he could get pregnant," Billy said again, quietly and slowly. "He forgot to mention what seems to be a particularly crucial piece of information, that he has a _womb_ and that there was a very good chance I could _impregnate_ him. And, moreover, he was stupid enough to get pregnant _whilst he was filming_. Have you any idea how many people he's going to put out by him getting pregnant? All the extra work people are going to have to do, to hide the fact one of the hobbits is pregnant whilst they're riding to war or hobbiting round the Shire. He's been a selfish fucking bastard and he'll be lucky if I ever speak to him again, the way I'm feeling right now."

Elijah was crying now, openly and heavily. "He _loves_ you, you fucker. You could be a family, and you're throwing it all away because you're prejudiced against him because he's a Fertile Male. You're abandoning your pregnant lover just because _you're_ the one who can walk away. I thought better of you." 

Billy shook his head. "I didn't ask for this," he repeated. 

"Neither did Dom, you shit." Elijah sighed and hiccupped, blowing his nose on the corner of his t-shirt. "He's probably scared and lonely and wondering how the hell he got you so wrong. It's not his fault he got pregnant, and now you're condemning him to a life of being a single Fertile Father, just because you can't see past the way your baby was conceived." He took another hefty gulp of whisky, swaying slightly. "He's probably had a really shit life, prodded and poked by a million doctors who just wanted to make their name in research, and then he lets himself love you, and you just leave him when he needs you the most."

"That's not true," Billy said, more to himself than to Elijah. "He _lied_ to me." 

Elijah's bottom lip wobbled, despite his desperate attempts to keep it under control. "He loves you, Billy. You're going to have a baby together. You need to be there for him." 

There was a long pause. "Did you and Dom, ever, you know..." Billy tailed off. 

Elijah examined his fingernails. "Once," he said quietly. "I thought it was the best thing ever, the beginning of something wonderful, but all he ever wanted was you." 

Billy closed his eyes, his head in his hands. He'd been so blind. 

**(iv) Dom and Billy**  
Dom opened the door dressed only in a stripy dressing gown and his checked pyjama bottoms. "Hey," he said eventually. He pulled the robe closed over the soft curve of his belly. 

Billy shrugged, smiling softly. "Can I come in?" 

Dom blinked. His eyes were swollen from crying. "It depends," he said finally. "Are you going to rip me to shreds like before?" 

"You should have told me," Billy said. "You really, really should have told me you were a Fertile Male." 

"I didn't think-" Dom leant against the door frame, his toes against the stone step. "I didn't want to lose you." 

"You almost did anyway." Billy told him. 

Dom blinked. Cocked his head to the side. He had the shadows of eyeliner down his cheek, tell-tail tear tracks. "Almost?" he whispered. 

Billy smiled. "I brought you these," he said, and he held out his hands. It was a carrier bag, and a carton of orange juice. 

Dom took the bag with shaking fingers, depositing the orange juice on the side. "You'd better come in," he told Billy. "Close the door behind you." 

The carrier bag was all that Billy had been able to lay his hands on at short notice. Billy had got Dom's favourite sticky iced buns from the bakery at the corner of his road, and a CD of the best of the Stone Roses. Dom probably had all the tracks on different albums, but it was the thought that mattered, and Billy had had nothing but thoughts all day long. Underneath Dom's gifts, there was a small, battered paperback. 50 cents from the local Op Shop, a well-worn, marked baby's name book. 

Dom's fingers closed around the book. He met Billy in a wordless gaze. 

"I know it's not that nice," Billy babbled, staring anywhere but in Dom's vicinity, "but I just wanted to say that it doesn't matter that we both made mistakes before, it's just that there's a baby and it's ours and we should take things from there. And-" he stopped. "I don't want to lose you."

Dom blinked away the tears and clutched the book in a long-fingered grip. "Our baby." He said, and he swallowed. "Do you want to feel?" his voice was hesitant, and Billy blushed. 

"If that's ok," Billy said quietly. His hand shook. 

Dom undid his dressing gown. It fell open, revealing low-slung pyjama bottoms that hung on his pelvic bone, the soft trail of hair that led up to his belly button curving over the swell of his stomach- Billy swallowed. The curve of their baby. 

Dom took Billy's hand in his own, and pressed it to his belly. "There," he said, the word merely a soft exhale of breath. 

Billy took a deep breath and ran the palm of his hand over Dom's belly. It felt the same as it always had, smooth and soft. Yet this time, his fingers trailed over the curve and the swell of Dom's skin. He couldn't sense movement, or the kick of a larger baby, but all the same, Billy was amazed. "Our baby," he breathed, and Dom smiled. 

"If it's a boy, it could play for Manchester United," Dom said proudly. 

"Or," Billy said tactfully, "Celtic."

Dom smiled tightly. "I think you'll find, _Billy_ , that our baby is a Manchester United supporter."

Billy smiled back. His eyes were bright. "I think you'll find, _Dominic_ , that our baby might feel an allegiance to Celtic."

"Or he might not." 

"Or—and here's an idea—our baby might not like football." 

Dom clapped his hands over his ears. "Don't say such terrible things. Not in front of our child. Of course our baby—son or daughter—will love the beautiful game." 

Billy grinned, spreading his fingers over the curve of Dom's stomach. "The baby could rebel, you know. It could support Leeds."

Dom's eyes widened. "You've only come back to terrorise me, haven't you?" he asked, in a small voice. 

Billy laughed. "I'm sorry," he said. "I should have realised that you were as ill-equipped to deal with this as I was." 

"I should have told you. I'm sorry." Dom welled up again, and Billy rolled his eyes.

"Is this going to go on for the whole nine months?" Billy asked, with a groan. 

Dom shook his head forcefully, hiding his tears in the sleeve of his dressing gown. "I can't help it if I'm hormonal," he cried, "I'm _pregnant_." 

Billy shook his head. "You're a pain in the bloody neck, that's what you are." 

Dom wept louder. "It's not my fault," he wailed, and he hiccoughed as Billy sighed and slipped a tentative arm around Dom's shoulder. 

Billy wrinkled his nose. "Does this mean I'm going to have to start giving in to your strange food cravings? Gherkins in the middle of the night, that sort of thing?"

Dom raised an eyebrow. "Have you never read anything about Fertile Males?" he asked, trying to sound serious in between sobs and hiccups. 

"Um." Billy looked shifty. "No?"

"Fertile Males don't _just_ have food cravings." 

"Oh yes?" 

"They have mood swings too." Dom cried louder to prove his point, and Billy contemplated leaving as the shrieking hit its high point. "And we have weird sleeping patterns-"

Billy's mental list slid onto its second side. 

"-and because we have a womb and a penis, we sometimes need-"

Billy groaned, this could only be bad news. 

"-massages in the middle of the night because we get cramp."

Billy put his head in his hands. "And after all that we get to spend the next however many years with a thing that isn't toilet trained and throws up on you at every opportunity and takes all our money?"

"All those weekends with Orlando will have been good practice."

Billy groaned again.

Dom, suddenly bright but still looking a little like a piglet with his pink, swollen eyes, grinned. "Have I told you lately that I love you?"

"Oh god, now he's reciting song lyrics. Someone chuck him a Celine Dion album and our lives are well and truly over." 

Dom cuffed him round the ear. "Shut it, you, else I'll cry again."

"Anything but that." Billy smiled and rested his head on Dom's shoulder. "We'll be ok, won't we?" he asked, finally. 

"You, me and baby Boyd-Monaghan? Yeah, we'll be fine."

"Until we saddle our unfortunate child with _that_ for a surname." Billy grinned, his fingers sliding over Dom's stomach once more. "Can you hear me, baby? We're rowing already."

"We're not _rowing_ ," Dom disagreed, his hand sliding over Billy's, "we're just busy discussing your future." He patted his stomach, his eyes meeting Billy's. "We're ok, aren't we?" 

Billy nodded. "We'll do just fine."

Dom smiled, resting his forehead against Billy's. "Good." 

"Good," Billy agreed. "Now when were you planning on telling me you'd slept with Elijah?"

Dom blushed bright red. "Did I happen to mention that us Fertile Males shouldn't be upset unnecessarily?"

"Too late, Dom. Previous indiscretions don't count." 

"Only did it to make you jealous, anyway," Dom pouted, grumbling to himself. 

"Idiot," Billy cuffed Dom gently. Dom grinned, and Billy smiled back. _And baby makes three_ , he thought.


End file.
